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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458418">Blades need Weilders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ne0pandemik/pseuds/Ne0pandemik'>Ne0pandemik</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, link being too good for his own good</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ne0pandemik/pseuds/Ne0pandemik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ghirahim shows up at Link's doorstep covered in blood, Link offers him a second chance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>In Which Link is Too Nice</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What the Storm brings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Link finds an injured Ghirahim on his porch</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Link could describe Ghirahim; truly describe him, instead of grasping at metaphorical straws to find the right words- desperate would not come to mind. Not even once. </p><p>Stubborn came to mind easily, as well as crass, rude, <i>homicidal</i>. Link never would have even humored the idea that the great Demon Lord Ghirahim could feel desperate. It was for that reason that he didn’t know what to say when Ghirahim showed up at his house in the middle of the night, clothes covered in blood and asking for help. </p><p>The rain was coming down hard, wind pounding at the poor cabin as if it were the last thing daring to stand against the storm. The first time Ghirahim knocked, Link assumed it was simply stormwinds rattling the door in its frame, but then it came a second time- harder, more urgent- and Link was out of his seat in an instant to save his unknown visitor from the downpour. </p><p>His first instinct upon seeing Ghirahim on his doorstep was to jump back, hand closing around the hilt of his sword. It was only after he’d begun to draw his blade that he realized that Ghirahim was leaning hard on the door frame, bloody hand covering his ribs defensively. Link only hesitated for a moment before dragging the other man into the house and guiding him to a nearby chair. </p><p>Ghirahim was silent as Link grabbed a towel and gently began drying him off. His expression was far away as he stared at the floor, unresponsive to Link’s attempts to talk to him. In his mind, Link was reeling. He’d suffered from shock more than once when he’d first explored the surface on his quest;  more often than not at the hands of the man before him. He’d never imagined there was anything in the world that could distress the great Demon Lord. A tiny voice in his head told him that helping his enemy was a stupid idea, but Link was the master of stupid ideas, and he would be damned if he let a man bleed on his doorstep. </p><p>Link finished with the towel, at least as much as he was able to without Ghirahim moving, then grabbed a blanket and his first aid kit before kneeling in front of him. </p><p>“Listen…”Link began, trying to find the right words, “I don’t know why you came here, or how you even know where I live,  but...You’re here now. If you let me, I can help you.”</p><p>Ghirahim didn’t move, didn’t blink. He just continued to stare at the floor, a blank expression on his face. This close, Link was able to see his hands tremble, clutched against his wound as blood oozed slowly between his fingers. Fuck, okay. He could do this. He just had to convince Ghirahim to move his hand enough for him to get to the wound and bandage it. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?</p><p>“Okay.” he sighed, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes, “I’m gonna take a look at your injury, ok? I have to touch you to do that, so please… don’t attack me.” </p><p>He leaned forward, his fingertips brushing the back of Ghirahim’s hand. Ghirahim flinched back, eyes blinking rapidly as he finally began to take in his surroundings. At the same moment, he exploded into a cloud of diamonds, only to slam into the wall a few feet away. He coughed; a wet, sticky sound- and collapsed, taking out two of Link’s shelves as he fell. Link cursed, launching himself across the floor in an attempt to catch Ghirahim before he slammed into the ground. </p><p>Link wasn’t quite fast enough to catch the full weight of the Demon Lord, but his outreached hands stopped his skull from cracking against the hardwood floor. Ghirahim rolled over, spitting blood onto the floor as he attempted to pull himself to his knees, coating the wood beneath him in gore as he struggled. </p><p>“Calm down!” Link pleaded with him, pulling himself up to help Ghirahim, “You’re making it worse! Let me help you.”</p><p>Ghirahim made a choking sound and Link pulled him up and half carried, half dragged him back to the chair. This time, Ghirahim seemed aware enough that he didn’t attempt to flee or pull away as Link gently moved his hand away from the bleeding gash on his ribs. Bile rose up in Link’s throat when he finally got a good look at the wound.  Four long slash marks ran horizontally along his ribs, just below his chest, marrying the otherwise perfect skin. Only one person, one entity could cause that kind of damage to the Demon Sword and live. </p><p>“Demise.” Ghirahim whispered, his voice trembling with the rest of him. </p><p>The confirmation sent a cold, sinking sensation through Link. He swallowed, his hands trembling now too, as he blotted at the wound with a damp cloth. He tried to focus his thoughts on cleaning away the dirt that had managed to worm its way into the wounds, and not on the creature that caused them. Ghirahim flinched and hissed, sounding more defeated with each gasp of pain. Link tried to be careful, but the wounds were deep, and it would take some time for them to heal properly. </p><p>“I’m going to have to cut your...clothes… to bandage this.” Link responded, trying to keep his voice steady. </p><p>Ghirahim’s eyes barely flickered upward, the ghost of a sneer crossing his face. If Link hadn’t been accustomed to those expressions, he may have missed it. As it was, there was little else he could do to make the man hate him more, so he pulled out his scissors and began to cut the shirt off. It peeled away with a sickening pulling sound; some of the blood was dry and flaking as it seperated from Ghirahim’s skin. Link shuddered involuntarily at the sound, reminded of the many times he’d had to peel bits of tunic from his own wounds.</p><p>Ghirahim winced again, but was otherwise silent. He watched Link with glazed eyes, his pale skin looked papery. Not a good sign, Link thought, working a bit faster. His hands fumbled as he pulled the healing potion from his kit and pressed it into Ghirahim’s hand.</p><p>“Drink this. It won’t fix everything, and it’s going to sting a lot, but you could die from blood loss if you don’t” Link ordered, standing to rinse the cloth off in the sink.</p><p>“What do you care?” Ghirahim asked, coughing, “Never had trouble killing off your enemies before.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Link snapped,, “I did what I had to do; what you made me do. Now drink the damn potion and let me help you.”</p><p>Ghirahim coughed again, but pressed the bottle to his lips. Link watched the bottle slip from his hands as the potion began to work, his face scrunching in silent pain. The bottle bounced on the wood floor, but thankfully didn’t shatter. Served the man right for being difficult. </p><p>It didn’t take long for the bleeding to stop after that, and though the wounds were still deep and very, jagged, they no longer looked like they would need stitches. It was a good thing, too, because Link was almost positive that Ghirahim would have hit him if he’d tried to get anywhere near him with a needle. </p><p>“So…” Link started, pulling out a piece of cloth and some bandage, “Since you’re here, would you mind telling me how you knew where I lived?”</p><p>Ghirahim shot him another dirty look, leaning his head back on the chair, but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Link thought he saw a flash of embarrassment on the other man’s face, but when he blinked, it was gone. Shaking his head, Link turned his attention back to his hands. He’d finished cleaning up the wound and had the bandage pressed against the wound, but was struggling to get the wrap started. </p><p>“Here.” Ghirahim said, slowly reaching his hand up to hold the cloth in place. </p><p>Link nodded to him, using his now free hands to get the bandage positioned and wrapped. He had to lean a bit closer to Ghirarhim than he’d have liked to get the gauze around his body, but when he was finished, the bandaging looked neat and secure; far better than any wrapping he’d done on himself. </p><p>Ghirahim seemed to think so, too, because a small chuckle left him as Link lifted him from the chair and helped him to the bed on the opposite side of the room. It was a struggle, but they managed to limp their way to the bed and get Ghirhim settled without too much hassle. Once in the bed, Ghirahim closed his eyes and didn’t open them again. </p><p>. . .</p><p>Sunlight streamed through the cabin window, falling onto Link’s face where he lay.  He scrunched his eyes, trying to will himself back into sleep’s warm embrace, but the bright rays were persistent. He begrudgingly raised his head, bleary and half aware that he was at his desk, and not in his bed where he should be. </p><p>Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he turned toward his bed and felt a minor jolt of panic when he saw who lay there. As the memories of the previous night came back into focus he dropped his head into his hand and laughed. Leave it to him to help an enemy. </p><p>Half an hour later, Link had managed to feed his cuccos, start a fire at his stove and get a pot of water boiling, but Ghirahim still didn’t stir. Link was beginning to get worried about him, but the steady rise and fall of the demon’s chest gave him a small amount of comfort. Breathing meant alive, even if only just. </p><p>The smell of cooking eggs seemed to rouse Ghirahim from his sleep, because the moment the first serving was plated, he groaned and sat up with a string of curse words. With a small smile, Link turned to him and handed him the plate, along with a mug of freshly made tea. Ghirahim looked at it for a moment, as if trying to decide if he wanted to eat something Link had cooked, but a quiet grumbling in his stomach made the decision for him and he took the plate. </p><p>“So not only are you saving your enemies, but you’re feeding them now, too?” He asked, shoving a bite of food into his mouth.</p><p>Link nodded, humming softly as he started frying eggs for himself. He worked with deft hands, grabbing spices without ever taking his eyes off the pan. </p><p>“You’re just… so, <i> so </i> stupid.” Ghirahim continued, prodding at the Hero to see if he could get a reaction from him. “Even an idiot knows not to help someone who tried to kill him.”</p><p>“Would you rather I had let you bleed out on my porch? Because I don’t think you do. Besides, if I am saving you, I might as well feed you.”</p><p>“You have a point.” Ghirahim replied. </p><p>Link plated his own eggs, then brought them and a second mug of tea to his desk. He turned his chair to Ghirahim before sinking into it once more. The demon lord arched his eyebrow, but said nothing as the two of them ate in silence. When they were done, Link finally spoke. </p><p>“How do you know where I live, Ghirahim?”</p><p>“On that again, are we?” he deflected, sipping the last of his tea. </p><p>“It’s a bit strange, considering that I thought you were dead all this time. But here you are, alive and...well, not dead.”</p><p>“Consider it laying low, skychild. I am not too fond of the idea of Demise hunting me down.”</p><p>“I thought he was dead.” Link countered, taking a drink from his own mug. </p><p>“You thought I was dead, too. And yet here I am, gorgeous and in pain. I heard Demise, the same as you. Wherever you go, an incarnation of his hate will follow. You may think you’re free, but you’re not and I doubt you will ever truly be.”</p><p>“That’s comforting.” Link snorted, earning another glare from Ghirahim. </p><p>“I don’t like it any more than you do, skychild. Imagine being that monster’s indentured slave for eternity.” he shuddered, his hand moving to the bandages on his side, “Sword spirits don’t ever really die, you know. No matter how broken we get, we can always be pieced back together.”</p><p>“Is that what happened to you?”</p><p>“.... Yes.”  Ghirahim replied after a moment, “And unfortunately, this thing, this shadow of Demise that has taken shape, it can command me. Disobedience has a high price.”</p><p>Link thought for a moment, trying to understand what Ghirahim was telling him. It was clear from the way that he spoke that the demon lord no longer held any love for his former master; not that Link could blame him. He remembered all too well how brutally Demise had treated Ghirahim during those final hours, and couldn’t imagine anyone remaining loyal after that kind of treatment. </p><p>“Then what about a new wielder?” Link asked, an idea forming in his mind, “ If you have another master, you’d be free wouldn’t you?” </p><p>The look of hatred on Ghirahim’s face made him freeze in his tracks. All at once, Link was reminded of just how vicious Ghirahim was, and all of the suffering and turmoil he’d gone through because of him. And here he was, socializing with him as if they were old friends. He’d even been about to offer to help him. What on earth was he thinking?</p><p>“Nevermind.” He said finally, “Forget I even asked.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone! Thanks for checking out the first chapter of my minific!<br/>This actually started out as a test for writing scenes with minimal dialogue but somehow turned into a completely fleshed out story?<br/>I actually intend to do a few of these, in which Link is just... too forgiving for his own good, through many different incarnations, so let me know if that idea is something you'd like to see!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The First Step is Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Link and Ghirahim make some confessions and begin to trust one another.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Words can, at times, be unkind. Once Spoken, they can never be taken back. Once doubt has been created, it can be difficult to erase. These were the thoughts running through Link’s mind as he sat, contemplating the situation he’d found himself in. </p><p>Sitting in his bed was one of his worst enemies. An enemy that, despite his numerous attempts on Link’s life, he’d helped without more than a moment’s hesitation. An enemy that, as of the last hour, was refusing to look at him. Not that Link could blame him; he was notorious for jumping to conclusions, and it had led him to saying something stupid. Again. </p><p>So Link just sat there in the silence, keeping his hands busy with mending, and waited for the Demon Lord to speak. If he had been slightly more perceptive, he would have noticed that each time he looked away from Ghirahim for longer than a moment, the latter would steal worried glances at the former.  As it were, Link did not catch his companion, and so the morning slipped into afternoon with relative silence.</p><p>Finally, after much consideration, Link set down the greaves he was mending and took a breath. He steeled his nerves and spoke, hoping the words wouldn’t catch in his throat</p><p>“I realize what I said before was insensitive. Of course being treated like a thing would upset you. I didn’t mean that you should get a new master to… to own you. Nobody deserves to be treated that way...but what if…” he paused, searching his mind for the right words, “What if someone agreed to take the role, but didn’t act on it. What if their only order was for you to live freely?”</p><p>Ghirahim snorted, turning to meet Link’s cautious gaze. The hatred in his eyes was almost unbearable, pressing down on him so heavily that for a moment, he was sixteen again; sore, bruised, and fighting for his life in a hellscape that would not waver. Then Ghirahim’s expression softened, and the moment was gone. </p><p>“If it was even possible, which I doubt it is, where would I find a master like that? Are you planning on offering yourself up as <i>my</i> savior this time, skychild? Play the hero again like it means something?”</p><p>The words stung, but Link had expected this. It was true enough, he supposed, that there was nothing to gain from helping Ghirahim, and it certainly wouldn’t change anything at all. They would still be enemies at worst, and two people who could barely stand one another at best. But something inside Link wanted this, wanted to help Ghirahim gain his freedom. If there was a chance for Ghirahim to redeem himself, this was it. And maybe, if he did this, Link could right the wrongs of so long ago. </p><p>But more than that, there was a deeper nagging in his heart demanding to be heard. It unfurled itself from where it hid, bubbling up his throat and off his lips before he could even process what it was that he was saying. </p><p>“Would it be so bad to be my sword?” He asked, surprised by how hurt his own voice sounded. </p><p>Ghirahim sighed, running his hand through his hair. </p><p>“No.” he said, “Of course it wouldn’t. You’re soft, empathetic, and generally too kind for your own good. One day, it will be the end of you. What you’re asking is complicated, and probably impossible. It has implications you could not possibly understand, nor do I think you would go through with it if you did. So, no, it wouldn’t be so bad, skychild. But it’s a pipe dream, and I’ve long since learned not to raise my hopes.”</p><p>Sorrow welled up within Link, understanding that there was more to what Ghirahim was saying than just the words. It was a confession of the pain that he’d endured and how it had changed him.  Link wished he had the words to reassure him, but how did you heal wounds that were thousands of years deep, burned into the very soul? </p><p>“I’m sorry that Hylia failed you.”</p><p>There was a pause, then Ghirahim spoke.</p><p>“I loved her, much like I loved Demise. But her hero thought my love was a weakness and tried to have it tempered out of me. She allowed it to happen, allowed him to warp my love into destruction, until she no longer recognized her creation and cast me aside. That, I think, is all I ever intend to say on the subject.”</p><p>Link nodded so Ghirahim would know he understood. It was the most Ghirahim had ever said about his past, and while he did want to know more about him, Link was not about to push. It was hard, he knew, to bring up the things that cut you the deepest, but they were the things that needed to be said for healing to begin. He would let Ghirahim talk to him, and heal, in his own time; if he chose to stick around, that is. </p><p>The clouds shifted then, and suddenly the room was lit by the warm rays of the afternoon sun, washing them both in its gentle heat. As the rays of light began to shift, they lit up Ghirahim’s hair in shades of gold and silver that reminded Link of a memory nearly forgotten; he was a boy again, napping in the Academy garden as he often did. Then Zelda was leaning over him to wake him, the afternoon sun gleaming in her hair like spun metal. For just a moment, he could smell the grass and feel the gentle tickle of the breeze. </p><p>It made him homesick. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Ghirahim asked, shattering the illusion. </p><p>Link blinked, and the memory faded away once more. He no longer smelled grass, or felt the breeze. Outside, the clouds continued to shift, and the sun was once again obscured. Link mentally scolded himself, then offered Ghirahim a small smile. </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>Ghirahim’s expression hardened from concern into irritation, crossing his arms over his chest to emphasize the point. It was something he was used to from Zelda, but seeing it on Ghirahim was a different kind of terrifying. At least he was used to disappointing Zelda. </p><p>“Why do you keep saying you’re okay when it’s clear you’re not? I thought the heart of the hero was Courage.”</p><p>His heart dropped into his stomach, filling him with a familiar sensation, yet it completely different from the night before. A lump formed in his throat,  tears stinging the edges of his eyes as he furiously blinked them away. He tried to swallow the sorrow back, forcing it down like he’d always done; this was not the place for him to lose himself. There would be time for that later, when he was safe. When he was no longer fighting. When he was-</p><p>“You just asked me to trust you with my very existence” Ghirahim said softly, “If you want my trust, you have to learn to trust me, too. Talk to me, Link.”</p><p>Link didn’t like the way those words made his stomach flip. He didn’t like any of this, really. None of the feelings he’d felt in the last two days were even remotely normal or reasonable. He didn’t even know what half of them were, foreign and uncomfortable and <i>squirmy</i>, but he knew he didn’t like them. All of it had started with that stupid question, that simple, irritating question that Ghirahim had avoided and he’d pretended not to notice, that the strange clawing <i>something</i> in his heart wanted to pry out of him if only to confirm an answer that he already knew.  </p><p>“How do you know where I live, Ghirahim?” He asked. </p><p>“Listen, Sky-”</p><p>“Please. I need to know, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”</p><p>“Whatever I want to know?” Ghirahim asked, raising his eyebrow, “Is that a promise, skychild?”</p><p>“Yes.” Link whispered.</p><p>“Very well. I know where you live because I have spent the last year watching you. Not all the time, of course, even I have better things to do than that. At first, I only did it to see if you knew I was alive, but even after I was confident that you wouldn’t be hunting me down with intent to kill, I still found myself checking in on you. Perhaps you were just something familiar to hold on to, or maybe there is a greater force at play. Maybe I just missed you.” </p><p>Link’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the confession. It was more than he’d expected, but the core of it was exactly what he thought it would be, because he felt it too. Despite the pain and the suffering and the constant <i>fighting</i>, part of Link had connected with Ghirahim, especially at the end. He couldn’t deny the despair he felt when he’d watched him die, or the regret he felt when he returned to the present only to find that Ghirahim was no longer there. That part of him had hidden itself for five years, but it would hide no longer. </p><p>Ghirahim didn’t say anything as he took the time to process, but his hands trembled slightly as they picked at the blanket on his lap. Link knew he was waiting for a response, waiting to determine how this interaction would end. On one hand, Link was fairly certain he would never see Ghirahim again if he didn’t say something soon, and while that seemed like the more sensible thing to do, Link was rarely regarded for being smart. </p><p>On the other hand, the mere thought that he could walk out the door and Link would never see him again was already painful enough without it actually happening, and Link would never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason that Ghirahim carried another scar on his heart. </p><p>“Ghirahim.” He said finally, “I am gonna be honest, it’s a little creepy that you just watched me, especially considering the fact that I live alone. In normal circumstances I’d be pretty angry, but it saved you from bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, so I guess I’m just glad you trusted me enough to knock when it counted. And… for what it's worth, I missed you, too.”<br/>

</p>
<p>Ghirahim was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. It wasn’t a normal laugh, but the strained laugh of a person far too tired to do anything else. </p><p>“We make quite the pathetic pair, don’t we, skychild?” </p><p>Link felt his stomach flip once more, and forced out a small smile.</p><p>“Yeah.” he answered, “We sure do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Holy sh_t this was hard to write. I really wanted to capture the extent of the conflict inside Link, because hoo-boy does canon Link have issues with expressing his emotions, and the canon never seems to really touch on it. </p><p>There is a very special secret in this chapter, and I'm hoping someone finds it, but I guess we'll see won't we?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A message from the Author</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the author is no longer in school and can write more</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hello everyone, I just wanted to give an update!<br/>With the newly edited chapter two up, we will be moving forward with our story pretty quickly. </p><p>My next update is going to be far longer than the previous chapters due to the complex nature of what I'm trying to do. As such, I am going to shoot for chapter 3 to be up by June 15th at the latest, though it may very well be done early! Thank you for your support and I'll see you soon!</p>
  </div></div>
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